


Shades of Blue

by nevercomestheday



Category: Fake News RPF
Genre: Cheese, Cheesy, Cute, Established Relationship, Fluff, I seriously can not stress enough how CHEESY this is, Kissing, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Marriage Proposal, Men Crying, Sappy, Silly, Skype, Slash, Time Skips, Wedding Fluff, Weddings, Wifeless AU, i mean wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-29
Packaged: 2018-04-24 01:11:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,805
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4899787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nevercomestheday/pseuds/nevercomestheday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stephen and Jon's relationship in shades of blue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shades of Blue

**Author's Note:**

> Why can I only write cheese? And why does it seem I every story I write lately involves the characters crying?  
> So, yeah, I'm warning you now, this fic is cheesy in the same way a block of muenster coated in melted cheddar sprinkled with Parmesan is cheesy (also, ew, those cheeses don't go together so well).   
> I'm apologizing in advance for the horrible poem that bookends this work. I don't know what came over me.  
> Oh, and of course, the standard RPF disclaimer:  
> I don't own these people or their lives, this is a work of pure fiction, and I make no assumptions, assertions, or accusations regarding anyone's sexuality.
> 
> Enjoy! <3

Shades of blue,

of me and you

Your hand in mine,

the stars align

I'll never say goodbye,

for the greyest sky

Is shades of blue,

when I'm with you

 

Jon's bright blue eyes are crinkling up in the corners, and though he's trying not to laugh, he's not doing a very good job.

It's Stephen's favorite thing in the world, to get Jon to laugh. He couldn't care less about the audience's reaction, or even his own opinion, so long as he can get a laugh out of Jon. It's his favorite laugh in the world, sort of hoarse and low and warm as anything.

When he catches his breath and calls for commercial, he turns to Stephen as the camera pans away. The lights in the studio bounce off his eyes, and when they land on Stephen's, his heart swells.

"Damn it, Stephen, every time. You get me every time."

 

They're sitting on Jon's office couch, surrounded by stacks of newspapers and muted televisions. Stephen looks up from his paper to find Jon already looking at him.

"What?" he chuckles.

"I just like the face you make when you're focused. You bite your lip a little, it's sort of cute," Jon says softly.

Stephen takes a second to absorb the situation. Jon is still in his suit from the pre-taped bit they just shot, the cobalt tie loosened and hanging crooked against his chest. His mouth is turned up in a little half-smile, his cheeks blushing the faintest pink, his hands fiddling with the remote in his lap.

He's never looked more beautiful.

"Cute, huh?" Stephen murmurs, and grabs Jon by the tie.

He pulls him in for a kiss, soon hearing the remote hit the floor and feeling hands snake around his waist.

"Yeah," Jon breathes against his lips. "Cute."

 

"Stephen!" Jon calls from across the dressing room. "Would you say this suit is black or navy?"

"Navy," Stephen says without looking.

"You can't even see it!" Jon whines.

Stephen turns, already giggling. He knew what he'd find when he looked over, but it's still funny. Jon is standing there in his boxers and black socks, holding up the suit jacket and frowning.

"What does it even matter?" Stephen asks, walking up to him.

"Sam was making fun of me earlier for not being able to tell the difference because I called her jacket black when it was 'obviously navy, Jon.'" The frown doesn't leave his face.

"So you're asking me? Isn't that sort of like admitting you can't tell?" Stephen is right in front of Jon now, smiling coyly and debating whether to pull him in now or wait to hear the response.

Jon says, "Shut up," and it's exactly what Stephen was expecting.

"Make me," Stephen whispers, sort of proud of himself for being so smooth.

Jon does as he's told, the frown on his face quickly becoming a little smile, and the smile even more quickly disappearing against Stephen's lips. He wraps his arms around Stephen's waist, and he sighs contentedly into Jon's mouth.

 

Stephen is laughing, and Jon's face is beet red with embarrassment.

"What? They're comfortable!" he says defensively as he wiggles his toes.

On his feet are the fuzziest, bluest socks Stephen has ever seen, made all the more silly when combined with Jon's boxers and worn grey shirt. When he looks a little closer, he notices the socks aren't both the same shade of blue.

"Wait, wait, hold on. Those don't match, Jon." Tears are starting to well up in his eyes, laughter straining his sides.

"What?" Jon looks down.

"How many pairs of fuzzy blue socks do you own?" Stephen asks, gripping his waist.

Jon presses his lips together. "They came in a three pack. They were on sale."

Stephen just shakes his head and rides out the rest of his giggle fit. Needless to say, the moment is ruined, and whatever sexual tension had been building that night has been dashed to bits.

Still laughing, he stands up from the bed and takes Jon in his arms in a hug.

"God, I love you so much," he finally says when he catches his breath.

 

Jon's hand is warm in Stephen's as they walk through the park. The sun shines down, making the crisp fall weather just a bit less chilly.

"You know what I just realized?" Jon says, sipping his coffee.

"Hm?"

"This is the first time we're able to hold hands in public." As he says it, he squeezes Stephen's hand twice.

Stephen smiles, looking first at Jon and then up at the clear blue sky. "It is, isn't it?"

"Feels nice."

"Yeah."

Children are playing, people are talking, the sun is out, and they're holding hands. For the first time, Jon isn't nervously putting his hands in his pockets and speaking in a hushed tone, and Stephen isn't worrying about the hundreds of eyes that seem to follow them everywhere.

They can just be. Together.

It is nice.

 

"It's only three months... Oh god, it's three whole months," Jon says.

"It's your dream, though, and I'm so proud of you. You're gonna make the best damn movie anyone's ever seen. We'll have to make a new shelf for all the Oscars, just like we did with the Emmys," Stephen smiles. He hopes the sound of his voice breaking was just in his head.

Jon sniffs and buries his face in Stephen's chest. "I don't want to be away from you for that long."

Whatever resolve Stephen had is crushed. "I'll still get to call you, right? We can Skype even when you're in the Middle East?"

Jon looks up and nods. "Yeah, every day. Every night. Even with the time difference."

The tears streaming down his face mirror those on Stephen's.

He presses a kiss to Jon's forehead and takes a shaky breath.

"Call me when you land? I won't be able to sleep until I know you're safe."

Jon nods again, squeezing Stephen's hands. "Of course." He looks at the big digital clock hanging from the awning above the doors to the airport. "I have to go..."

Stephen winces as though he's been pinched. "I love you more than anything."

"I love you even more than that," Jon says, and Stephen crashes his lips to Jon's so quickly, the last syllable is nearly cut off.

Stephen watches Jon walk into the airport before getting back into his car. He bites his lip to try and keep from crying, but it doesn't work. He's sobbing too hard to start driving, and it takes him a couple of minutes to regain his composure enough to pull away from the sidewalk.

 

The past two weeks have been hell without Jon. Stephen keeps thinking he'll roll over and find him there, sitting up watching CNN while Stephen sleeps.

The Skype logo is happy and bright, but the blue theme only makes Stephen sadder. He wishes he could look into Jon's eyes instead of a webcam, kiss him in person instead of typing little Xs into the chat window.

“I wish I could've gone with you,” Stephen says for the millionth time.

“I do too, baby. But the Nation needs you,” Jon smiles sadly.

“But _I_ need _you._ ” Here it goes again, the waterworks. Stephen wishes he wouldn't cry every time they Skype, but so far, there hasn't been a call without tears.

Jon sniffles. “The rest of the time will go by fast, I promise. Pretty soon, you'll be driving to the airport to pick me up and complaining about traffic.”

Stephen forces a chuckle. “Who said I'd pick you up? I don't want to drive all the way out to the airport,” but they both know he'd walk there tomorrow if it meant getting to see Jon.

“So, uh, is Oliver doing a good job?” The little picture on Stephen's screen loses focus and pixels out for a second, but he can still see Jon trying very hard to lighten the subject.

“He's doing really well. Not as well as you do, but you know,” Stephen says.

“I knew he'd do great,” Jon grins, proud of himself. “Not a bad second choice.”

“Second? Who turned you down?”

“Oh, no one. But my favorite guest host was always you.” His wistful expression is a little muddled through the webcam, but Stephen would probably be able to see it even through closed eyes.

“Man, that was so long ago. I never liked guest hosting as much as being a correspondent, though,” Stephen sighs.

“Yeah? Why not? I thought you liked being the center of attention,” Jon laughs.

“Oh, I do, don't get me wrong. But my favorite thing about being on the Daily Show was always making you laugh.”

Jon presses his lips together and looks down. He takes a breath to say something, but the clock catches his eye. “I have to get going to shoot soon. I'll call you tomorrow, okay?”

“Okay. I love you,” Stephen says.

“I love you,” Jon echoes.

Stephen puts up a hand in a sad little wave as the call ends.

He can practically feel the happy little blue Skype icon mocking him.

 

Stephen parks in the airport lot, the scent of exhaust thick in the air. He can't smell it, though, nor can he hear the honking of horns or the loud jet engines; he can't see the long lines of people getting their bags when he walks in, and he can't feel the dozens of people jostling and bumping him as he makes his way to arrivals.

All he can see is the path in front of him, the path to Jon. All he hears is the little voice in his head.

"Jon is home. Jon is home. Jon is home."

All he can feel are the butterflies in his stomach. All he can smell is Jon's cologne, he's missed it so much and it's almost there.

Just a few more minutes. Just a few more people.

The flight is announced as having arrived, and Stephen's heart begins to pound against his ribcage. People file out one by one.

Not Jon, not Jon, definitely not Jon.

And then, grey hair shaggier than usual and beard grown out, a familiar figure shuffles across the teal linoleum and through the doorway.

"Jon!" Stephen cries out.

He looks around, blue eyes searching the room, until his gaze lands on Stephen. His whole face lights up, an expression of pure relief worn plainly.

Jon drops his carry-on. To hell with it. He runs up to Stephen faster than he thought his stiff joints could move.

"Oh god, Jon," Stephen sobs when he collides with him. "Jon."

"Stephen. My Stephen."

Jon pulls back from his space in the crook of Stephen's neck to look him in the eye. He kisses Stephen hard, pulling himself as close as he can.

"I'm never going anywhere without you again," he breathes against Stephen's lips.

"Jon..."

"I mean it, Stephen. I'm never going anywhere without you again. You're all I could think about. You're all I wanted. Sure, I missed New York, but the thing I missed most about home was... home. You're home." He takes one of Stephen's hands and takes to one knee on the turquoise tile floor.

Stephen's eyes go wide, bottom lip quivering.

"I never want to be away from you again. Stephen Colbert, will you marry me?" Jon kisses his knuckles.

Stephen nods, biting his lip for fear of exploding like a firework.

Jon stands back up and Stephen kisses him, this time long and deep and tender. When they pull away, he takes Jon's hand.

"Let's go home," Stephen says.

"I already am."

 

"Jon?" Stephen calls from across the house.

"Yeah?"

"Come here for a second, babe, I have something to show you!" He smiles to himself, clutching a brightly wrapped box.

"What is it?" Jon sighs when he makes it into the bedroom.

Stephen holds out the little present.

"Should I open it?" Jon asks, and Stephen just nods excitedly.

He tears through the slate wrapping paper and pulls the top off the box.

"It's... It's underwear?" he chuckles.

"Yeah! There's a pair for each of us in there," Stephen smiles.

"I don't get it," Jon says, shaking his head. "Why did you gift wrap boxers?"

"Because they're our something blue, Jon! For Sunday!" The look on Stephen's face is both playful and a little surprised, as though this should've been obvious.

Of course he'd bought them matching blue boxer shorts for the wedding. It's such a Stephen thing to do.

Jon smiles sheepishly. "This is actually really cute, babe. And we did need something blue..."

"Now we just need something old, although maybe you count," Stephen teases.

"Hey!" Jon presses his lips together to keep from laughing. He leans up to kiss Stephen.

"It's okay, Jon. You're a sexy old man."

"Gross."

 

The sun shines through the clear blue sky, streaming through the tree under which Stephen stands, waiting for his Jon.

The park has never looked so beautiful, he thinks, until Jon walks up to the aisle. Stephen is already teary just seeing him standing there.

He can hear the music playing faintly and the sound of family and friends whispering happily, but even the birds chirping right over his head are muffled by the sound of his heart pounding in his ears. He's not nervous, he's not afraid, he's excited.

Jon steps forward, indigo and white flower petals scattered around him. He never breaks his gaze from Stephen, though he has to blink through some tears of his own.

They meet at their oaky altar, taking one another's hands in a grip somehow both shaky and tight.

The officiant gets to the part about their own vows, and it's all Stephen's been waiting for this whole time.

"Jon, I've never been able to find words to describe how I feel about you, and it took me until today to realize that's not due to my own incompetence, as I thought, but due to the fact that the words just don't exist. You're the part of my life, the part of me, that I never knew I was missing until we met. Never in my wildest dreams did I know feelings like this could possibly be real. There's only one thing I love in this life more than making you laugh, and that's you. I'm so glad I get to spend the rest of my life watching you try not to laugh at me. I love you so much," Stephen drops one of Jon's hands to wipe under his glasses, missing a stray tear that drops down onto his jacket.

"Stephen, my Stephen," Jon starts, inhaling deeply and smiling wide. "I remember, when we first met, wondering how someone so charming and charismatic could exist. Then, shortly after that, I remember wondering how a person so wonderful could have possibly come into my life. You're the best friend I've ever had, the closest ally I have in every endeavor, my favorite collaborator, and my biggest fan, for whatever reason. I know you always say you love me more than anything, but there's one thing that I know has you beat by a long shot. I love you, Stephen Colbert, more than you could ever love me, and that's simply because there's no one out there as lovable as you are. You are my everything." His voice breaks several times through his vows, but he doesn't stop himself once.

"Do you, Stephen Colbert, take this Jonathan Stewart to be your lawful wedded husband, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?" the officiant asks, smiling at the couple.

"I do," Stephen nods. "I do."

"And do you, Jonathan Stewart, take this Stephen Colbert to be your lawful wedded husband, in sickness and in health, til death do you part?"

Jon squeezes Stephen's hands. "Yes, I do."

"And now, as a couple committed to one another for the rest of your lives, hand in hand, heart to heart, go forth together and enjoy life as one. You may now kiss the groom."

"Finally," Stephen breathes, eliciting a giggle from the crowd. 

He pulls Jon in dramatically, kissing him with passion and gusto and so, so much pride. At last, he truly is Jon's Stephen, in every official and non-official sense. 

They separate and Jon is blushing wildly, and maybe, just maybe, Stephen's new favorite color on him is red, second only to the radiant blue his eyes still shine. 

 

 

Shades of blue,  
of me and you  
Beneath the tree,  
Just you and me  
I see the sun rise,  
In your sky blue eyes  
And the world is bright,  
you are my light  
You take my pain,  
time and again  
I'm never blue,  
when I'm with you

 


End file.
